Detective beecher's next move
by randomitegirl
Summary: After his talk with Elias, Cal Beecher considers his next move and provides team machine with information they need to bring down HR. *Spoilers for Trojan Horse*
1. Chapter 1

Head Note: Okay this was going to be a one-shot but my ideas are like the numbers: they never stop coming. So here is another multi-chapter story that I am writing

Chapter One

Cal Beecher drove back from Riker's after his talk with Elias, thinking about what Elias had told him. _You know something you don't even know you know_, he had said, _Choose your next move wisely or it will be chosen for you_. The words and warnings ran through his mind non-stop as he tried to sort through what he had learned. Quinn had lied to him. He had realized that when Elias had told him that Szymanski had refused his attempts to bribe him. He knew that if Elias hadn't given him the money then HR must have grabbed it. And the fact that Quinn had lied to him told him that he was in HR. But how high was he?

It was a shock, admitting to himself that his father's best friend, the man he had trusted since he was eight, was in an organization of corrupt cops and politicians. The man had practically raised him as a son after his father had died in the line of duty when he was ten. And now to know that he was dirty was almost more than he could take.

He had to tell someone about his suspicion. But he didn't know who to trust now that Quinn had broken that trust. When it came to corrupt cops and politicians, you didn't want to tell the wrong person.

After a few minutes he realized that there was one person he knew he could trust. Joss Carter. He knew for a fact that she would rather die than become a dirty cop. Her avoidance of him hurt, but it was proof that she wouldn't even associate with someone who even looked like a dirty cop.

He had to tell her. Because if he was right and Quinn was in HR, then he was a threat to him. He would probably kill him if he heard that he was asking questions. He didn't even try to call her since he was pretty sure she would ignore it. But he had to find some way to tell her.

XxXxXx

A few hours later, Beecher walked to Carter's office. After making sure he was alone, he hid a tape recording in her drawer. He hoped that she would find it instead of some dirty cop.

XxXxXx

A few hours later he was sitting in his car again. He had a bad feeling about this bust but he shook it off. He had, after all, done this a million times. His C.I. got out of the car to meet with possible drug dealers when his phone rang. He was pleasantly surprised to see Joss's name come up on the caller ID and answered it. Her voice was noticeably softer and he could hear a smile in her voice. He wondered if she had found the recording and that was why she was talking to him again. she didn't say anything about the recording, but he was happy to hear her offer to buy drinks. _Well_, he thought as he hung up, _if she doesn't know yet, I will tell her there_.

All of a sudden the drug dealers took off and Beecher kicked the door open and followed them into the building. He followed the hall and turned the corner to see his C.I. hiding under the stairwell. Seeing him hiding under the stairwell lit off a signal in his head that something was very wrong. What happened next was even stranger. His C.I. looked up and told someone to wait for him to leave. He didn't have to wait long to figure out what was going on as gunfire erupted in the stairway. _Oh crap_, he thought as he took cover underneath the stairwell. He noticed his C.I. lying on the ground, with two bullet-holes in his back. It seemed there really was no honor among thieves. _It's HR_, he realized. They were killing him and making it look like a drug killing. He called for back-up but he knew that the chances that anyone would get there in time were slim.

He shot at the two "drug dealers" trying to get a clear shot, but it was clear that they had the advantage. He cried out as white-hot pain struck his shoulder. He fell on his back and barely had time to recover when a second bullet hit his chest. He heard the "drug dealers" walk down the stairs to get a look at him. He forced his head to look at them and recognized one of them as a detective in Joss's precinct. With a jolt of horror, Beecher realized that with dirty cops everywhere it was more than likely that they would find the recording before Joss did. If they did, his suspicions would die with him and no one would be able to question Quinn. But even if she did find it first, HR might find out and have her killed too.

He heard the sirens as he began to lose consciousness but from what he could tell they were still a mile away. It was too late for him. _Joss_, he thought, _if you find that recording, be careful_. With that last thought lingering in his mind, he drifted off to an endless sleep.

XxXxXx

It had been a week since Cal had been killed and Carter was still found it difficult to come to grips with what had happened. Finch and John had offered their sympathy and condolences of course, but she just wanted to be alone. She couldn't help but blame herself for Cal's death. If she had just listened to his side of the story; if she hadn't blamed him for Szymanski's murder, he might still be alive. She opened her drawer and suddenly noticed something she hadn't before: A tape recording. How had she missed that? Then she remember that she had hurried to grab her gun the night Cal had been killed. She hadn't had time to notice anything. She put it in her pocket and resolved to listen to it that night.

The recording had a little static in it but there was no mistaking Cal's voice.

"Hey Joss," his voice said, "If you're listening to this I'm probably dead. Either that or things are better between us. Listen I need to tell you something."

He stopped for a moment trying to gather his thoughts. "There's so much to explain. I guess I should start at the beginning. My C.I., the one that got Szymanski killed, he's the mayor's guy, Quinn. So I talked to him and he told me the information came from Elias's guys. So, I talked to Elias. He told me that he had tried to bribe Szymanski but that he had refused the money. What I'm saying is that I think Quinn is dirty."

He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Which is why I'm recording this. Because if I'm right and he is in HR, I wanted to be able to tell someone. But I only knew of one person I could trust. And that's you Joss. So, if I end up dead, you'll know I was right. If that happens I want you to pass this information on to someone you can trust. I want you to be careful. HR is everywhere and they are very serious about protecting their organization. I love you, Joss. And I hope things get better between us but if not, I still want you to know that I trust you. And that if you need help with anything else, I'll be there." Then the recording clicked to the end.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

John looked up after the tape finished. Carter was looking expectantly at him. It must have taken her a lot of courage to show him the recording. Especially considering that it contained personal messages.

"Did you show anyone else?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"No. I didn't know who else to trust. Right now I only trust you, your friend, and Fusco."

"Good," John said "HR is protecting their own. Killing anyone that starts asking questions. Had you told anyone else they might have gotten wind of it."

"What do you want me to do?" Carter asked.

"What Beecher said," he began. "I want you to be careful. I'll keep my eye on Quinn; try to figure out how high he is."

"I want to talk to him," she said. John could see a spark of anger hidden behind her eyes. Anger toward Quinn for killing Beecher to be sure. But John also suspected that at least part of her anger might be toward him for not being there to save him. He knew she would never say it, but it was still there.

"I know you want to talk to him," he began. "But right now our priority is to protect you. If this guy finds you asking questions he might want to kill you. He's certainly proven that he willing to kill anyone to protect himself."

"I'm a cop, John," she shot back. "And believe it or not, talking to suspects is always dangerous. There's always a chance that they could lash out. I want to talk to him."

John took a deep breath. A thousand ways this could go wrong and they all led to Carter ending up dead. He could not let that happen. But he knew he would never be able to talk her out of this. Her decision was made.

"Alright," he consented. "But if you find anything you let me handle it, alright?"

"Fine," she sighed and stood up to leave the restaurant.

XxXxXx

Finch sat at his computer monitors looking for anything that might confirm what he had heard on Carter's recording. He tapped his earpiece as Mr. Reese called him.

"Got eyes on Quinn, Finch," he said. "Anything you can tell us about our mayor's assistant?"

"Alonzo Quinn, fifty-years-old never married. Doesn't have much family left and his only friend was a police officer that was killed some twenty years ago. He was raised in a wealthy family and went to Yale University where he studied law and political science."

"Two of the least trusted majors in America at this point," John commented.

"Mr. Quinn is definitely worth looking into, Mr. Reese," Finch said. "With his position in the mayor's office he would have access to unlimited amount of information circulating around the city. Nothing happens in New York that he wouldn't know about."

"Would explain how HR knows exactly how to pull the strings." Mr. Reese said.

"Indeed it would," Finch whispered mostly to himself. "Stay close to him Mr. Reese. Detective Beecher might have been on to something."

XxXxXx

Carter sat in her car driving to Quinn's office. His office had agreed to let her come and talk to him. She hadn't given him any specifics just that she needed more information on a homicide case. She parked her car and walked into the office.

"Hi, I'm Detective Carter NYPD, I have an appointment to speak with Quinn," she said flashing her badge.

"Of course, he'll be ready in just a minute," the receptionist said.

Carter didn't want to sit down. She had too much anticipation. She didn't know what to expect from Quinn, but she did not plan on taking it easy on the guy.

"Mr. Quinn is ready for you, Detective," the receptionist said.

Carter went into Quinn's office and sat in the chair across from him.

"Mrs. Jones tells me you wanted to talk to me about a homicide," he said warmly. _Warmly_! As if he wasn't guilty of at least one count of murder. As if he wasn't in an organization that not only looked the other way and had tried to kill her, but had killed the only person she had opened her heart to since Taylor's father had been killed. But she suppressed the urge to lash out at him and forced a smile on her face.

"Yes I was looking into the death of a narcotics detective: Cal Beecher," she said.

"I heard about that," Quinn said. "I also read that it was a simple drug bust gone wrong. Didn't read anything about it being murder."

"We think it was an HR killing," Carter said, and was pleased to see Quinn freeze for a second before he covered it up. "We think Cal was getting close to figuring out some major player in HR and they killed him for it."

"And what makes you think that?" Quinn asked his voice still warm and friendly.

"We were looking into his files and found evidence that suggests he was looking into someone with connection to HR," she answered. It wasn't the truth of course, but she didn't want him to know about the recording.

Quinn gave her an indulgent smile. A smile that a grandfather would give to a child; and again it peeved her that his friendly personality didn't match his cruel character.

"You know Detective," he said casually, "I am the middle man for all the information around the city. I happen to know that you and Detective Beecher were friends. Maybe even more than that. So even if there was an investigation into his death, you shouldn't be involved in it at all. Conflict of interest, you see." He leaned forward, his smile faltering somewhat. "So I don't see any reason why I should answer any questions from you. Have a nice day." With that he returned to his things completely ignoring her.

Anger burst in her heart and Carter wanted nothing more than to take a page out of Donnelly's book and hold this guy in jail until he confessed. But she couldn't do that. This guy had too much power.

Resisting the urge to lash out, Carter stood up and left Quinn's office with no doubt in her mind that Quinn was guilty.

XxXxXx

John watched the exchange between Carter and Quinn outside Quinn's office window. He'd heard every word exchanged between them since he had blue jacked Quinn's phone when he was following him to his office. He watched as Carter left the office. Then he watched as Quinn pulled a disposable phone out of his desk and called someone.

"We need to meet," were the only words said before he hung up.

"Finch, he just used a disposable phone to set up a meeting," John said. "Tells me he doesn't want anyone to know about this."

"He could be meeting with someone from HR," Finch speculated.

"Looks like he's wasting no time," John commented as he watched Quinn grab his coat and head for his door.

A few moments later he came out of the mayor's office and John waited a few minutes before falling behind him being sure to keep an eye on his head. He followed him to central park: the perfect place for a covert meeting. Large crowds so that no one would notice two people meeting.

John turned toward the lake so that Quinn wouldn't notice him watching and waited for his friend to arrive. He didn't have to wait long before Simmons showed up and greeted Quinn.

"You were right, Finch," John said. "He's meeting with Simmons." And he turned his attention to the two men meeting.

"Terney's making the Szymanski investigation go away," Simmons reported. Something in the back of his mind found it strange that Simmons would be reporting to Quinn but he was too focused on the object of the meeting to think about it.

"Good," Quinn began, "Because we've got another problem. Detective Carter is looking into Cal's death. She knows it wasn't a drug killing."

"How?" Simmons wondered. "We were careful. We didn't leave any loose ends."

"Obviously we weren't careful enough," Quinn said.

"What do you want us to do?" Simmons asked.

"Do you really have to ask?" Quinn asked.

John felt a horrible jolt as he realized what the whole scene meant. The fact that Simmons was reporting to him; the fact that Simmons asked him what to do; it all led to one conclusion: he was higher than Simmons. And he could only imagine one person being higher than Simmons. He was following HR's boss. And not only that but the head of HR wanted Carter dead.

He could tell by Simmons' demeanor that he was uncomfortable with the idea of going after carter. Quinn noticed as well.

"There a problem?" Quinn asked him.

"The guy in the suit. He has a soft spot for Carter. And we both know he's not in Riker's anymore." Simmons said.

"Since when did that stop you?" Quinn asked. John noticed that for the first time since he started following him there was a slight coldness in his voice as he threatened Simmons.

A silence broke over the two men as they looked at each other. Finally, Simmons looked away.

"Fine," he said. "We'll take care of it." The men shook hands and Simmons left.

"Finch, we have a problem," he said not bothering to hide niether his worry nor his anger.


	3. Chapter 3

Head Note: I'm sorry it took a little long. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter three

"Oh dear," Finch whispered, obviously horrified. "If I understand the smallest part of what just took place…"

"Quinn isn't just in HR; he's not just a high-ranking official: He's HR's boss. The one we missed. And now he wants Carter dead."

"Mr. Reese I've done more digging into Quinn's only friend, turns out he had a son." Finch began.

"Who is he?" John wondered. He had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

"Detective Beecher," Finch answered. The disgust was evident in his voice. "Mr. Quinn raised Detective Beecher like the son he never had. Detective Beecher looked up to him for many years I would imagine."

"But when he started asking questions he didn't hesitate to kill the person closest to him." John shook his head in disgust as he watched Quinn walk back to his office. "I'm really starting to hate this guy, Finch."

He took out his phone to call Fusco.

"What is it, Wonder boy?" the detective growled.

"I want you to follow Carter," he ordered. "She just kicked a hornet's nest with HR."

"You think she'll go with that?" Fusco asked. "Her talk with Quinn really got her steamed. She nearly tore my head off when she came back from questioning him."

"I don't care, Fusco," John said irritably. "I want you to keep an eye on her."

"Alright will do, boss," He said before hanging up.

"And Mr. Reese, I will follow Simmons and figure out how he intends to kill Carter," Finch said.

"He won't kill her, Harold," John growled.

"I doubt he will, Mr. Reese," Finch said. "But we will have more of a chance of stopping him if we figure out how he would want to do it."

"You're right, Harold. I'll get on his tail. Is there a way you can hack his phone's GPS?"

"Yes but I don't want you to stop following Quinn," Finch said. "It might give us more names in HR. I will follow Simmons."

John knew that there were some things you could not argue with Harold over. One of those things was getting physically involved in a case. When Harold wanted to get involved there was no stopping him.

"Alright, Finch," John said.

XxXxXx

Finch followed the HR police officer in his car. Simmons had already met up with several acquaintances and realized that any one of them could be ordered to kill Detective Carter. Officer Simmons went into a small park and Finch got out of the car to follow him. He was walking past a pay phone when he heard it ring. He looked at the pay phone and looked back at Simmons who was almost out of eyesight. He wanted nothing more than to ignore the machine. There couldn't be anyone more important to protect than Carter. Could there? even so, they were already protecting someone in danger, and any distractions could increase their chances of failing. And the world needed Detective Carter.

But as he looked back at the pay phone he knew that he would regret it for the rest of his life if he ignored this number. He begrudgingly picked up the phone and listened as the garbled voice gave him the number then hung up. He looked around quickly, hoping to catch another glimpse of Simmons but he was already gone. He had lost him. Harold shook his head in frustration. The machine always seemed to give him numbers at the most inopportune times.

XxXxXx

John watched as Quinn met with several other people. He didn't know if they were HR or just people who were fooled by Quinn's façade. John hated to admit that it was pretty good. He followed Quinn as he entered an alleyway. John wanted to follow him into the alley and give him a piece of his mind but just as he was about to enter the alley and follow him, a cop-detective by the look of it-walked in and ruined his chances of doing it quietly. Carter would kill him if she learned that he attacked a man in plain view of a cop no matter if the guy deserved it. So he decided to wait until the cop left.

That was when Quinn's phone went silent. There wasn't even background noise going on. Quinn must have realized that he was being followed and didn't want to risk being overheard. The worst part was, John didn't even know what building he had gone into. John cursed himself for his stupidity. He had no choice but to wait for Quinn to put the SD card back in his phone. _By the time that happens his meeting will be over_, he thought grimly to himself.

It was about a half hour later when he heard the sound of chairs scraping on the floor and John assumed that the meeting was over. That when he heard Quinn's voice, speak to someone.

"One more thing, Detective Terney," he began. "I believe that someone has been following me."

"For how long?" the new voice asked.

"I don't know," he answered. "It could have been all day, could've been the last couple of hours. All I know is that if he has been following me, he knows too much."

"Understood," Was the automatic response. "I'll find him and take care of it."

The fact that there was yet another person out there trying to kill him wasn't what shocked him. It was the sudden understanding of what just happened. The person meeting with Quinn was a detective. John was willing to bet that it was the same detective he had seen walking into the alleyway after Quinn.

He heard The two men leave the building. John was no longer interested in following Quinn. He wanted to figure out what the dirty detective, Terney, was about to do. He knew that Quinn had told him to do much more than what he heard. The meeting had been far too long for that little snippet.

He followed Terney and watched from a distance as he met with several people. He blue jacked his phone and heard the last snippet of one conversation.

"You're sure you can handle this?" Terney asked.

"Absolutely, I'll take care of it." The other man answered. The two men shook hands and Terney walked away.

John followed him as he walked into dark corner. He quickened his pace, his movements fast and furious. At the last second, Terney sensed movement behind him and his eyes widened as he saw the ex-CIA operative closing in behind him. He opened his mouth but wasn't able to shout before a vice-like grip closed around his throat and threw him against the wall.

"And who were you ordered to kill?" John asked, his voice soft and deadly. "Some other cop? Some hapless stranger who's getting smart? Or did your boss think Detective Carter was too much for one dirty cop to handle?"

"W-who are you?" Terney choked out.

"HR's worst nightmare," John answered. "Call off the dogs, now," John ordered.

"I can't," Terney choked. "The stone is already set in motion. What do you care anyway? He's dirty too."

_He?_ _Was he talking about__ Fusco?_ He should have known. If Quinn knew about Fusco there shouldn't be any surprise that he would want him dead too. Even if he didn't know that Fusco was undercover he was still hanging around Carter.

John growled and punched Terney, knocking him out. John and Finch were going to have to work hard if they were going to save both Detectives.

It was at that moment that John heard the familiar ring tone and reached his hand to the earpiece.

"Mr. Reese, we have a new number," his partner said.

"Is it Fusco?" John asked.

"No," he answered. "It's someone different."

"Who?" John asked. He really didn't want to waste time on some stranger when two of his friends were in danger, but he knew that Finch would insist on it. Even so he wasn't expecting the answer that he got.

"Simmons," Finch said.


	4. Chapter 4

Head notes: Sorry it took so long. I was finishing it up when my laptop crashed and I had to retype it. There's not much action in this chapter. It pretty much just more figuring things out.

Chapter four

John stood behind Finch as he put Simmons' picture on the glass wall.

"Okay, Finch, so Simmons' number came up. Does that mean that someone wants to kill him?" John asked. "After all, maybe your Machine is getting smart and identifying him as a threat."

"In all our dealings with HR, Mr. Reese, the Machine has always given us the number of the intended victim," Finch said.

"Even so, why do we want to save him, Finch?" John asked. "He's been a thorn in our side for quite a while. We could just let whoever wants to kill him take care of him and we wouldn't have to deal with him anymore."

"Because I have figured out who wants to kill him," Finch said. "It seems that Quinn is questioning his trusted lieutenant's loyalty. We've already seen him murder his friend's son. He would kill anyone to protect himself."

"That doesn't explain why we would want to save Simmons," John replied. "Why not just let the trash take care of itself?"

"I understand how tempting it is to leave Simmons to his fate, Mr. Reese," Finch began. "But I was thinking that if we offered our services to Officer Simmons, we might be in a position to ask him for a little something in return."

John looked over at Harold, who raised his eyebrows in a way that spoke as loudly as if he had said it out loud. He nodded, understanding what Harold wanted him to do, and left the library.

XxXxXx

Simmons was walking back to his car in a dark parking garage. He had contacted some close friends in the gang world and asked them to take care of the meddling detective. He was on his way to report to his boss that everything was set in motion. He opened the car door and sat down. He was about to turn the key when he heard a distinct click echo in his ear and reach every corner of the car.

"Hello, Patrick," a soft voice said.

He froze and looked in his mirror. He didn't recognize the man in the back seat. But given the suit he was wearing, he was willing to bet he had come face-to-face with the guy in the suit.

"How did you find me?" he asked arrogantly.

"That's not important. What is important is that I found you before your boss's hired guns did," the guy said.

"What are you talking about? You're the one holding a gun to my head," Simmons said sarcastically.

"Your boss killed his best friend's son in cold blood, Patrick," the guy said softly. "What makes you think he won't do the same to you if it even crosses his mind that you might want to jump ship. And according to my intel, it looks like he does. What would he do to you, I wonder? Would he set you up like everyone else? Or would he just take care of you himself? Now normally, I'd be inclined to sit back and watch the show, but that wouldn't be very useful to me now, would it? I can protect you, but I want something in return."

"Would that something be Carter?" Simmons ventured.

"That's right," the guy whispered. "You help me save Detective Carter and bring down the rest of your organization, and I will protect you from Quinn." Simmons looked back at him. The guy in the suit knew who his boss was.

"You expect me to turn my boss over to you when you know perfectly well it will get me killed?" Simmons shot back, hoping to cover his surprise.

"At least I'll be inclined to protect you," the guy said. "Besides, your boss already wants you dead."

"And if I don't?" Simmons said defiantly. He felt the gun bury itself deeper into the back of his head.

"I'll save Quinn the trouble," the guy simply said. "Kill you myself."

Simmons weighed his options. The last thing he wanted was to go with the guy in the suit. For one thing, the guy had been a thorn in his side for far too long. Every encounter had made him hate the guy that much more. Especially that time he had the guy cornered in that parking garage. The other thing, the thing that kept his attention, was Quinn. He had personally seen the ruthless things he was capable of doing to people who got in his way or betrayed him. If Quinn found out that he had sold him out, he was a dead man. But according to this guy, Quinn already wanted him dead. Even if he was lying, he had a gun to his head, so he'd die anyway. But if he went with the guy in the suit, he would have a more of a chance of survival with the guy offering him protection. _Why am I even listening to this guy?_ Simmons thought to himself. _Betraying my friends and my boss just because some Special Forces wacko says so?_ Even as he thought this, he heard his own voice utter an agreement.

"That's the spirit," the guy said clapping him on the shoulder. Simmons shook his head in irritation. One offer accepted, and the guy owned him for life. He was already regretting it.

XxXxXx

Carter sat at her desk, feverishly going over Cal's case file. She didn't care if she wasn't supposed to be involved in the official investigation. It wasn't going to stop her from finding the truth. Right now, that meant looking for anything that would point to Quinn. But as the head of HR, he was careful not leave any strings that would lead back to him. Even if she could figure out how he did it, it would be difficult to prove. And that's really what law enforcement came down to: if you could prove what happened. And it frustrated her to no end that what she found she may not be able to prove in court.

That was when she heard someone walk past her desk and looked up to see Terney walking into his office, holding his bleeding nose.

"Terney!" she yelled. "Are you okay?" she asked, getting him a tissue.

"Some guy attacked me," He said, putting the tissue against his nose. "Tried to rob me up until they realized I was a cop."

"What did he look like?" Carter asked.

"I couldn't see his face; it was too dark. But his eyes scared me to death," Terney said.

Fusco looked up at Terney suspiciously. He had been attacked not long after Wonder Boy called to tell him that Carter was stirring things up again. Attacked by a guy that had scared the crap out of him. He only knew of one guy who could do something like that. He wasn't sure, and he was painfully aware of how wrong he had been about Beecher, but it was enough to make him want to watch Terney very carefully. He quickly pulled out his phone and used it to clone Terney's. Then he quickly went back to what he was doing.

"Well, take care, Terney," Carter said, going back to her desk to look over Cal's case file again.

It was then that she remembered something about Quinn. He had been there when Szymanski and the assistant DA were murdered. Both of them had been shot twice in the chest, but he had got off with one non-fatal gunshot wound to the shoulder, the one surviving witness of the masked gunman's rampage. At the time she had been so focused on Beecher that she had missed the one clue that had been staring her in the face. _Oh, how could I be so stupid?_ she thought to herself. She couldn't believe that she had missed something so obvious. No one would be dumb enough to leave a witness alive. Unless that witness was the real killer.

"You okay, Carter?" Fusco asked, noticing the realization dawning on his partner's face.

"We need to talk," she answered, getting up and walking into an empty office.

"What's going on?" Fusco asked, making sure to close the door behind him.

"It's Quinn," she said. "You and I both know he was involved with Beecher's murder. I'm starting to think he had something to do with Szymanski's as well. He may have even killed him himself."

"Are you sure, Carter?" he asked.

"He was the only witness who lived to witness Szymanski's murder. And let's be honest, who would be dumb enough to leave someone who could testify?" she said.

"But what about his shoulder?" Fusco asked. "That wasn't a self-inflicted wound, Carter."

"Then someone was with him," she said.

"Someone who helped him cover up Szymanski's murder," Fusco added.

"We find that person, we will be that much closer to bringing Cal's murderer to justice."

It was at that moment that Carter's phone began to ring.

"Hello, detective," John said.

"John, Fusco and I have some new information," she said.

"That's great, detective, 'cause I have some too." John replied. "Could you and Fusco meet me in a little while?"

"Sure, John," Carter said, then looked up at Fusco. "We need to go," she said.

XxXxXx

An hour later, Carter and Fusco arrived at the restaurant John had arranged for them to meet at. It was a little odd seeing someone sitting on the opposite side of the table, but that wasn't the only surprising thing that caught their eyes. It was _who_ was sitting on the opposite side of the table. Both detectives' mouths fell open, and they stopped in their tracks as an arrogant Simmons turned to look at them.

"Hello, detectives," John said pleasantly. "Please join me."

The detectives looked at each other before they both sat down. Carter sat down next to John, which left Fusco the seat next to Simmons.

"So what's this scumbag doin' here?" he asked, indicating Simmons.

"I convinced him to help us," John said simply.

"Really?" Fusco wondered, an amused smirk growing on his face.

"Something funny, Lionel?" Simmons threatened.

"Oh yeah," Fusco smiled. "Ever since you started giving me a hard time I have been looking forward to your getting what you deserve. Of course, at the time I was thinking jail time might do. This is even better."

"Now, Patrick here has names of everyone HR has recruited since Donnelly's raid," John stated. "I want you two to take care of them."

"Don't think that I'm going to just give you names," Simmons said, trying to maintain some level of defiance. "You're going to have to work for it."

"Since when do you get to negotiate?" John asked, his voice getting softer.

"Since I'm the only one who can help you," Simmons said.

"Really?" John responded as everyone heard a click underneath the table. "I've been able to get along just fine without you, Patrick. What makes you think now is any different?"

"John!" Carter shouted, shocked at the lengths John was willing to go.

"Don't stop him, Carter," Fusco said, his face growing more amused. "It was just getting good."

"All right, fine," Simmons said. "I'll give you the names."

Satisfied, John put his gun back in his pocket and turned to Carter.

"When I called, you said you had some new information," he said.

"Fusco and I think that Quinn killed Szymanski. But someone was with him and helped him cover it up. If we find that person, we'll be that much closer to bringing Quinn down."

John turned back to Simmons. Carter's statement had hit a nerve.

"She's right, isn't she?" he whispered. "Quinn killed Szymanski, didn't he?"

Simmons didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. John knew that Carter was right.

"Who helped him cover it up?" he asked, taking out the gun again and pointing it at him under the table.

"I wouldn't know," Simmons answered, hate emanating from his eyes. "Only my boss would know that."

"Then, Patrick," John began. "I have a job for you."

Simmons eyes narrowed, confused, and Fusco's smirk grew even bigger.

End Notes: I hope you liked this.


	5. Chapter 5

Head notes: We finally see some action in this chapter! Oh and just so there's no confusion I am telling you now that I reference my Donnelly story in this chapter. You don't have to read it you just need to know that I had John save Donnelly. Anyway back to the story. Enjoy!

Chapter 5

It was getting darker when they left the restaurant. They were about to go their separate ways when group of fifteen men, presumably gangsters, surrounded them, taking out guns or knives or any other weapons. The smaller group all took out their guns and stood back-to-back as they faced the threat that had encircled them.

"You two should choose your company more wisely," a tall gangster said speaking to John and Fusco.

In answer, John leaped forward and kicked the gun out of the gangster's hand and loosed a bullet into the kneecap of the gangster standing behind him. At that everyone sprang into action. Bullets flew and cries of pain were heard. John didn't have time to consider if any of those cries of pain belonged to his friends._ Or Simmons_, he mentally added. Although, unlike his interaction with Donnelly, he doubted he would regret it if he failed to save Simmons.

Ridding his mind of all distractions, he focused on the threat immediately before him. One of the gangsters managed to kick the gun out of John's hand. Another one grabbed him from behind, putting a knife to his neck, while another gangster pointed his gun at John. Noticing his predicament, Carter shot the gangster before he could shoot John. John raised his elbow and jammed it into his assailant's chest, then he grabbed the gangster's arm and threw him into a knot of gangsters that where rushing to challenge him.

Simmons watched as the guy in the suit fought. He tossed a glance at the two detectives who were both preoccupied with the gangsters. He couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. Smirking to himself, he raised his gun and pointed it at the guy in the suit, ready to rid the world of this idiot. Just then, he felt the muzzle of a gun press itself against the back of his skull.

"Don't even think about it, bozo," Fusco growled in his ear.

Begrudgingly, Simmons pointed his gun at one of the gangsters and shot him instead.

Finally, all the gangsters lay on the ground, either dead or groaning in pain. John looked around and found all of his companions alive and unscathed from the gunfight.

"Thanks, Carter," John said after a moment. She nodded and John turned to Fusco. "And Lionel, I thank you, too." He turned an icy stare onto Simmons who, for one fleeting moment,shuddered under the stare.

"No problem, boss," Fusco replied.

"All right, now you both have names that Simmons gave you," John began. "I want you to make sure they go behind bars. Patrick will call Quinn and set up a meeting, Tonight." He looked at Simmons to convey his seriousness.

Simmons rolled his eyes but consented. Carter turned to walk away and John grabbed Fusco's arm as he turned to follow her.

"Don't let her out of your sight, Lionel," he growled.

"What was I, born yesterday?" the detective shot back.

XxXxXx

Carter and Fusco sat at their desks again, filing anonymous tips about the names they had received to internal affairs. It was quite a long list for it being only those recruited since Donnelly's raid. Fusco felt his phone vibrate and looked at it. Terney was getting a call. Fusco turned the microphone on and put the phone to his ear and listened.

"Did you take care of them?" Terney asked.

"No," the new voice answered. "We tried but some guy was with them, Attacked us."

Terney sighed. "Was this guy wearing a suit?" He asked.

"Yeah," the man replied.

"Then I think it's safe to assume that we were both attacked by the same guy," he said.

Well, that confirmed what Fusco had suspected about Terney. The man was a rotten scumbag. He wondered why Simmons hadn't given them Terney's name. Then he remembered the exact wording he had used. All those recruited _since_ Donnelly's raid.

Terney must have been recruited before that. The two pages he had ripped out of Zambrano's ledger could have had Terney's name on it. He had shredded the page with his name on it without even looking at it. Plus, he had handed over the page with Simmons' name on it without looking at that either. Any one of those pages could have had Terney's name on it.

Terney continued speaking to the man on the phone. "We need to get rid of him. And Simmons."

Suddenly, there was a beep and Fusco panicked for a moment, thinking that he had done something that would alert them to an eavesdropper. But he sighed in relief as Terney announced that he was getting another call.

"Yeah, boss?" he answered.

"He just called," came Quinn's voice. He recognized it from the night he had followed Beecher. "He asked me to meet him in the park."

"That guy you told me about earlier, I think he's working with Simmons," Terney said. "He attacked me and took out the guys I sent after him and Carter. If Simmons goes to the park, he might be there too. We could take them both out."

Fusco could hear Quinn smiling in satisfaction.

"Exactly my thoughts," he said. "You know what to do."

Fusco wanted to stop listening and call Wonder Boy to warn him but he knew he had to keep listening. Mr. Happy would never be satisfied with half a report. He listened as Terney returned to his first call.

"Boss just called," he said. "Simmons and the guy will be in the park in a little while. You're gonna take them both out. Don't shoot till the boss gives you the signal."

"What about Carter?" the man asked.

"I'll take care of her," Terney replied.

Terney hung up and Fusco dialed like the wind.

"What is it, Lionel?" answered a hushed, slightly annoyed Wonder Boy.

"Quinn is going to double-cross you guys," Fusco warned. "He just called one of his people and told him where you'd be. And from the sound of it, there might be snipers."

"I appreciate you trying to warn me, Lionel," came the sarcastic reply. "But I'm aware of what Quinn is planning to do. Stay with Carter."

XxXxXx

John stood with Simmons before entering the park.

"You're just here to talk about business, Patrick," he said. "Don't give away my presence. If you do, I will know."

"You've already said that a hundred times," Simmons shot back angrily. "How many more times are you going to threaten me?" John's eyes hardened.

"Until you get the hint," he said softly. Simmons scoffed and started to make his way over to Quinn.

John listened on Simmons' blue-jacked phone as Simmons walked up to Quinn and shook his hand. Then he turned to find a good position for the snipers. Far away, obscure, and well hidden. He heard Simmons greet Quinn.

"How have you been handling Carter?" Quinn asked him.

"I contacted some friends. They will take care of her," Simmons said with an ease that made John uneasy.

"Good. Now when you called you seemed nervous," Quinn noted.

"I've been following Carter," Simmons began. "She knows that you killed Szymanski."

John heard Quinn pause just as he found the sniper. Hidden in a second story building just across the street. As far as he could tell, there was only one sniper.

"Does she know who helped me cover it up?" Quinn finally asked.

John walked across the street in a way that didn't attract attention to himself, and went around the to back exit so that the sniper wouldn't see him coming.

"No, But she's getting close," Simmons answered.

"well then it's a good thing that she's being taken care of," Quinn said. "Now there's another matter to discuss."

"What's that?" Simmons asked.

"A man has been following me today," Quinn began. "You have any news on that guy in the suit?"

"Other than him screwing up our projects over the last two years? Nothing," Simmons answered just as John found the room that the sniper was in. "Trust me if I had, he'd be out of the picture. Permanently."

"Somehow, I don't believe you," Quinn said, the coldness back in his voice.

That must have been the signal because that was when the man started to pull the trigger. John grabbed the sniper's shoulders and yanked him back just as the man fired, causing the shot to miss its intended target. The man was caught off guard as John's grip closed around the barrel of the gun. The two men fought to get control the gun. John finally managed to tear the gun from the other man's hands and sent his fist flying into the guys chin. His head snapped back and the man crumpled to the ground, out cold.

John went to the window and looked around for Quinn, thinking that he might be able to shoot him in the leg and disable him long enough to get down there. But he didn't see Quinn. He looked in the spot where he and Simmons had been talking but didn't see him. He did see Simmons laying face down on the ground.

XxXxXx

As soon as Wonder Boy had hung up on him, Fusco looked around and watched his partner. He knew he had to tell her about Terney. He stood up and walked over to her desk.

"Carter, we need to talk," he said.

"Hang on, let me finish this," she replied absent-mindedly.

"Carter," Fusco repeated a little more firmly and she looked up. "We need to talk now."

She finally dropped what she was doing and stood up. They both walked into an empty office.

"You want to tell me what this is all about, Fusco?" she asked.

In answer he took out his phone and replayed the recorded phone conversation.  
_Did you take care of them? No, we tried but some guy was with them, attacked us. Was this guy wearing a suit? Yeah. Then I think it's safe to assume we were attacked by the same guy. We need to get rid of him. And Simmons. _  
At that Fusco stopped the recording.

"That was Terney, talking to someone who hired that group to attack us," he explained. "Terney's dirty. Cut and dried." Carter looked taken aback.

"When did you clone his phone?" she asked after a minute.

"Earlier today when he came in with his nose bleeding," he answered.

"And you didn't think to tell me earlier?" She asked angrily.

"I wasn't sure," he replied. "I didn't have anything to back it up, it was just a hunch."

"You knew enough to clone his phone," she shot back when all of a sudden her demeanor changed. "Wait a minute. Terney was in charge of Szymanski's investigation. He was the one who kept telling me the shooter ran out the back."

"You think he had something to do with Szymanski's murder?" Fusco questioned.

Before she could say anything they both heard a click and Fusco placed himself in front of Carter as they saw Terney standing at the door, pointing a gun at the both of them.

"Of course she thinks that, Fusco," Terney said, answering Fusco's question, who returned Terney's gaze unflinchingly. "She was always too smart for her own good."

XxXxXx

Finch sat at his computer listening to the detectives' conversation. His stomach dropped when he heard Detective Terney walk in one them and draw a gun on them.

"She was always too smart for her own good," he heard Detective Terney say.

Wasting no time, he called his partner in a panic.

"Mr. Reese, you'd better get to Carter and Fusco immediately," he said trying not to let his fear seep into his voice.

End notes: Sorry if the sniper part seemed rushed. I really tried to make it as realistic as possible.


	6. Chapter 6

Head notes: Sorry it took so long. it took a while to type it up. I really hope the wait hasn't dampened anyone's enthusiasm. And there are more references to my Donnelly story. In fact it might help to peruse it a little. Now onto the story! Enjoy!

Chapter 6

John rushed out of the building to get to Simmons. As he approached Simmons' motionless form, he crouched down and placed two fingers on his carotid artery. There was a definite pulse there. Suddenly, Simmons groaned as he pushed himself off the ground.

"What happened?" John asked him.

"Quinn got the drop on me," Simmons slurred. "Where were you? I thought you said you'd protect me."

"Well, forgive me for taking care of the snipers that would have shot you," John whispered.  
Simmons scoffed but didn't reply.

"Now can you get up?" John asked him.

Simmons nodded and forced his legs under him so he could stand up. John heard the familiar ringtone and tapped his earpiece.

"Yeah, Finch?" he answered.

"Mr. Reese, you had better get to Carter and Fusco immediately," he said. His partner's voice was soft and John could tell that he was trying to hide his fear.

"What happened?" John asked.

"They were just taken by a member of HR," Finch said simply. "I fear he intends to silence them. They need your assistance."

"Come on," John ordered Simmons. Then he replied to Finch as he walked up to a car. "We have another problem. Quinn got away."

"Well you take care of the detectives," Finch said. "I will take care of Quinn."

"What exactly do you plan to do, Finch," he asked. "Talk him to death?"

"Not exactly," Finch answered. "But rest assured, I have something in mind."

He heard a click as Finch hung up. Then he hot-wired the car and began hightailing it to help the detectives. As he drove he couldn't stop the uneasy feeling he getting. What exactly did Finch have in mind? He hoped he didn't plan on confronting Quinn. The man had killed Szymanski himself and hadn't been afraid to kill Beecher to cover it up. He didn't want Finch to put himself in the hands of such a dangerous man. But that's exactly what he was doing. Images of a helpless Finch crying out for help rose unbidden in his mind. He tried to stop them, but they were forcing themselves to the forefront of his mind.

For one fleeting moment he considered ignoring Finch's advice and going after him instead of the detectives. But he quickly brushed the thought away. He had to save the detectives, which meant he had to send someone after Finch. Simmons was out of the question. He didn't trust him. But who could he trust?

A single name skirted across his mind. One that made him hesitate for a moment. There was someone he could trust. Someone who hated HR almost as much as he did and would do anything to take them down. He hesitated a moment longer.

Donnelly was a good man, there was no doubt in his mind about that. But calling him now was like playing with fire. And he wasn't quite sure if trusted him enough to tell him about Harold. But he had no other options. Besides, he didn't have to tell him about Harold. He could just give him information on Quinn. If he was as determined to bring down HR as he was to catch him, the man wouldn't wait until morning to talk to Quinn.

He took a chance. He took out his phone and dialed a number. There was still a chance this could blow up in their face, but instinct was telling him to trust Donnelly. And he had come to rely on his instincts.

"Who are you calling?" Simmons asked.

"An old friend," John answered. Then he turned his attention to the man answering the phone. "Hey, Nick." He began, trying to force all remaining doubt from his mind. "You know how I said HR hates both our guts? I have information that could bring them down permanently."

XxXxXx

Carter and Fusco stared at the gun in Terney's hand. Neither one of them had thought to grab their weapons before going into the not-so-private office. It hadn't seemed necessary. But now they were both wishing they had.

"Now we are all going to go on a little drive," Terney said, lowering his weapon so he could conceal it. "Don't attract attention or I'll kill you both right here."

They all walked out to Terney's car; Fusco making sure that he was always in between Carter and Terney.

"So when did you become a rotten scumbag?" Fusco asked Terney.

"You're one to talk, Fusco," Terney said as he drove. "You're just as dirty I am. The fact that you're all goody-goody now doesn't make you a good cop."

"What?" The shock was evident in Carter's voice and Fusco could feel her gaze turn onto him. He didn't dare meet Carter's eyes. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment, the distrust, in his partner's eyes.

"And I thought you had a nose for dirty cops Carter," Terney said, relishing Fusco's shame. "Your partner here was dirty long before he met you. He helped cover up murders of lowlife drug dealers, and as I recall he even killed a few of them himself. Didn't you, Fusco?"

Fusco was glaring at Terney. A few moments passed before Fusco could think of what to say.

"Yeah, you dirty sack, I was dirty cop," Fusco began. "I'm not proud of my past. I've done things that I pray my son doesn't find out about. But it's a crazy thing when life gives you a second chance to be the good guy. At first you're forced into it kicking and screaming. Then you realize that you like bein' the good guy. 'cause that's how your kid sees you. No matter what you are. And before you know it, you are that guy."

Fusco risked a look at Carter's face. Her expression was unreadable. As if she couldn't decide whether to be disgusted at his past or impressed by his evolution from dirty cop to good cop.

He looked back at Terney and continued. "And if I die, I want my kid to be proud of me. I want him to know that I died trying to take you guys down. I want him to know that his old man died doing something right."

"You think your son's going to know whether you died doing something good or not?" Terney laughed. "You, too, Carter. You think anyone's going to know if you died doing something good?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "But I will."

XxXxXx

John stepped on the gas, following the GPS coordinates on the detectives' phones. It seemed Terney wasn't the smartest dirty cop out there. He hadn't even bothered to take the phones' batteries. He seemed to be going into the outskirts of the city. The dark corners of it. He stepped harder on the gas, surely going over the speed limit. So help him, if Terney killed Carter and Fusco, John would see to it that he saw the error of his ways.

"What's your plan?" Simmons asked.

"The direct approach," John said.

Finally he seemed to be catching up to them. The little dots on the GPS were getting closer together. Then up ahead, he saw Terney's tail lights turn into an alleyway. He stopped the car and got out. He heard Simmons' door close and stopped.

"Do you have your handcuffs, Officer?" he asked, without turning to look at Simmons.

Sighing in annoyance, Simmons handed his cuffs over to John, only to have them close unexpectedly around his wrists.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Simmons demanded as John snapped the other cuff on the steering wheel of the car.

"I have to go save my friends," John said, fishing around in Simmons' pockets for the keys, amid his protests. "And since I can't trust you not to come up with any ideas, you're staying here."

His fingers closed around the keys and he threw them as far as he could before taking off to find Carter and Fusco, cocking his gun as he rounded the corner.

XxXxXx

Terney finally stopped the car and got out. He pointed his gun at the two detectives and ordered them to come out. Fusco kept himself between Carter and Terney. Terney pulled out a second gun.

"You will never get away with this, Terney," Carter said.

"Actually, Carter," Terney began. "I will get away with this. Which is a shame, really. Because, I always liked you, Carter. But you just had to keep on asking questions. Like your boyfriend. You just never figured out when not to ask questions."

"You're not gonna lay a finger on her, you dirtbag," Fusco snapped.

"Of course not, Fusco," Terney said calmly. "You are."

Carter and Fusco stared at Terney for a few moments before he continued.

"I think it rather tragic what happened here," Terney said in mock sympathy. "One good cop, one dirty cop. The dirty cop shot his trusting partner in the back," he said indicating Carter with the second gun. "Detective Terney came around at the right time, heard the gun go off and shot the dirty cop with his gun." He indicated Fusco with his own gun. "Unfortunately, he was too late to save the noble Detective Carter."

"Do you really think anyone's going to fall for that, Terney," Carter asked.  
Terney smiled.

"Everybody fell for the Szymanski set up," he said shrugging. "Even you fell for it. Any last words?" He asked pointing the gun at Carter.

Without a word, Fusco stepped forward and placed himself directly in front of the gun, flashing Terney a defiant gaze. Terney shrugged.

"Fine with me," he said simply.

Terney cocked his gun as Fusco took a deep breath that he was sure would be his last. Carter and Fusco both flinched as a gunshot rang out. But Fusco wasn't the one who collapsed on the alley floor. It was Terney, who was moaning and grasping his shoulder in pain.

Fusco and carter didn't waste any time. Fusco quickly picked up both of Terney's guns and Carter forced Terney onto his stomach. She got out her handcuffs and put them on Terney's wrists as Fusco turned to greet John who was coming up to them.

"You always have show up at the last possible second, don't you," Fusco growled, clearly annoyed.

"At least I show up on time," came the dry response. "Simmons is back there," he said pointing in the direction he came from. "I thought you might want to do the honors."

"Sure thing, boss," Fusco replied.

Terney stood up and turned to Fusco, his hands cuffed behind his back.

"This isn't over, Fusco," he threatened. "HR isn't out. We never will be. You and your partner will be the first to go."

"Oh yeah," Fusco returned, shooting his 'I don't give a crap' face at Terney. "Well, get in line."

"Besides," John added. "Your boss isn't the only chess player in the city."

XxXxXx

Quinn sat at his desk in his office cursing the idiot sniper. Shooting at Simmons before he had located the guy in the suit. Quinn had been sure the moment he had heard the shot that the guy had thrown off the other man's aim. Then he'd been forced to knock out Simmons in order to give himself time to escape. Perhaps, if he was lucky, the blow had been strong enough to kill him. But he doubted it and now he had given himself away to Simmons.

At that moment, Mrs. Jones came on the speaker.

"Mr. Quinn, there is a Norman Hawkins here to meet with you," she said.

Quinn didn't recognize the name but he figured it wouldn't hurt to talk with him.

"Send him in," he said.

The door to his office opened and Mr. Hawkins came in. He was a short fellow dressed in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, wearing glasses and carrying a briefcase. After a few steps, Quinn noticed that he was limping even though Mr. Hawkins himself didn't seem to notice it. As if he had grown accustomed to his disability and didn't feel the need to acknowledge it.

But what got his attention most of all was Hawkins' eyes. There was an intensity burning behind his glasses that might have made the toughest criminals think twice about attacking him; even though he probably couldn't do much to them physically. Mr. Hawkins sat down across from him and greeted him politely, his eyes flashing with calm anger.

End notes: I love coming up with aliases for Harold. usually involves looking up birds. Anyway hope you enjoyed this chapter. the next one will be posted soon.


	7. Chapter 7

Head notes: Okay so, I'm sorry if Quinn is a little out of character in this chapter. My justification for it is that every time John and/or Harold say "So-and-so would kill anyone in order to blah-blah-blah," one or both of them end up almost getting killed by that character.

Chapter Seven

Quinn didn't know what to make of this man. Hawkins held up his head with an air of intelligence that screamed 'I know what you did.' He almost wanted to laugh despite the intensity of his gaze. Even if Mr. Hawkins knew the first thing about him and HR, he wouldn't be able to prove it. By wasting his time talking to him instead of the police, Mr. Hawkins was ensuring that he would end up dead before he could prove it. Pretending he didn't notice Mr. Hawkins' anger, he returned the angry glare with a small smile. An identical twin of the one he had given carter earlier that day.

"Mrs. Jones said you wanted to talk to me," he said conversationally.

"I would like to speak to you about your organization," Hawkins began. "The one commonly referred to as HR."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Quinn said, deciding to play dumb so that he could figure out just how much Mr. Hawkins knew.

"There's really no point in denying your involvement, Mr. Quinn," Hawkins said. "My associates and I have been paying very close attention to you."

"Your associates," Quinn repeated. "So you work with the Man in the Suit." It wasn't a question. Quinn grinned at himself. This man was showing all of his cards. When this man was done talking to him, he would know exactly who he needed to kill to keep HR secret. Starting with this man, of course. His mind was already coming up with a dozen possible scenarios.

"You really should be more concerned about yourself than me, Mr. Quinn," Hawkins said.

"I figured out why you murdered Detective Szymanski and the assistant district attorney," he continued.

"I did not kill anyone." Quinn denied.

"You and I both know that you killed them," Hawkins repeated calmly. "And I know why."

"So tell me," Quinn challenged. "Why would I kill anyone?" The sooner Hawkins revealed what he knew, the sooner HR could kill him.

Mr. Hawkins leaned forward in his chair slightly. An act that demanded attention.

"Your organization was decimated after Agent Donnelly got a hold of the HR ledger that Zambrano kept," He began. "You needed money. Elias was obviously out of the question seeing as he doesn't quite trust you anymore. So you contacted Elias' rivals, the Russians, to make them a deal. But they were only interested in one thing: freedom. So you tried to frame Detective Szymanski. But when that didn't work you couldn't take any chances. You knew he would testify if he got the chance. So you killed him and the assistant District Attorney. The Russians got off the hook and you got the funding you needed."

"That is quite a story," Quinn said.

"Yes it is," Hawkins returned, the glare growing far colder than Quinn had ever seen before. "Unfortunately it doesn't end there."

He placed a picture in between them and Quinn recognized his godson, Cal Beecher staring up at him. Quinn looked up to meet Hawkins' gaze.

"What is this?" he demanded, trying to remain cool.

"That is your best friend's son who you murdered," Hawkins said coolly, anger and disgust seeping into his voice. "You weren't there, but you killed him all the same. When he started asking questions about Detective Szymanski, you knew it would lead him to you. You had no reservations about killing the one person who had trusted you his entire life."

"I assume you have a point in telling me all this," Quinn said.

"My point, Mr. Quinn," Hawkins began. "Is that although you have gotten away with almost everything your entire life, I am going to ensure that you will never hurt another person."

"Oh, really," Quinn laughed, amused. "What can you do to me?"

"I'm glad you asked," Mr. Hawkins said, putting his briefcase on the desk and flipping it open.

He pulled out a laptop and put the briefcase on the floor. He tapped on the laptop for a few minutes and then turned the screen so that Quinn could see it. He immediately recognized the numbers on the computer. They were his bank accounts and they were quickly draining. His face paled as he realized that the man in his office had remotely accessed his bank accounts. Trying to act like it didn't bother him, he looked up at Hawkins. He had clearly underestimated this man.

"You might not care so much about money," Mr. Hawkins began. "But not even you can deny the fact that you need it to run your organization. So, I'm taking it from you. Oh and since the Russians are the ones who provide the funds, I took the liberty of accessing their individual bank accounts and emptying them as well. As well as every single member of your organization. I also took all the evidence that we uncovered about you and your organization and sent them to the FBI by means of an anonymous tip. I think you can expect to be arrested sometime tomorrow morning."

Dropping the act, Quinn gave Hawkins a glare that would have made Simmons shrink.

"I have good lawyers, Mr. Hawkins," he assured him.

"Oh yes, and they would be so willing to work for a crook who has no money," Hawkins replied sarcastically, returning Quinn's glare with one of his own. "You only have money that you have on hand, and I'm supposing it's not much. Most people don't bother to use cash. Preferring to use easier methods of payment. What they don't realize is that it also makes it easier for people like me to steal their information."

Hawkins broke eye contact just long enough to pack up his laptop and put it in his briefcase. Then he stood and delivered one more scathing look before turning to walk out of the room.

Quinn sat numbly for a few seconds. It had just been a matter of minutes and this Mr. Hawkins had taken away everything he cared about. Anger rose in his chest like he'd never felt before. He wanted this man to die. Normally he would contact Terney or some other higher official that he trusted and they would take care of it. But they didn't have a few days to get the job done. He was going to be arrested in the morning and he could only assume that the others would be arrested soon after. He realized that the opportunity would be lost forever if he let Hawkins walk out of his office now.

Standing up, Quinn raced after the little man, his fingers closing around a letter opener on his desk. Hawkins sensed movement at the last second and the briefcase dropped from his fingers. Mr. Hawkins cried out in pain as his back crashed into the bookshelves against the wall. But he recovered quickly enough to catch Quinn's wrist as the blade on the letter opener flashed down toward him. Quinn could feel Hawkins' pulse quicken as he pressed harder against his throat, and felt some satisfaction at the panic building behind Hawkins' eyes.

XxXxXx

Special Agent Donnelly arrived at Quinn's office with a few other agents. He'd been a little skeptical when John had told him that Quinn was the head of HR. Pointing out to John that he had arrested the head of HR, Landon Walker. But after a few minutes and a lot of good points, he felt that Quinn was at least worth looking into. He'd been reluctant to bring anyone with him thinking it might give away his affiliation with John. But John had promised that he wouldn't be anywhere near Quinn's office. So he had selected a few other agents to accompany him.

Well, okay he wouldn't call it _affiliation_. He'd interacted with John in order to save his daughter from Stanton, but they still weren't exactly friends. But even so, if the Bureau ever found out that he had worked with him, regardless of the reasons, he would be fired, if not arrested for treason. He shook himself, forcing himself to focus and flashed his badge to the receptionist at the front desk.

"Special Agent Donnelly, I'm here to speak with Alonzo Quinn." _And possibly arrest him if John's anonymous tip is right,_ he added to himself.

"He's meeting with someone, but you could probably meet with him after." The receptionist replied, gesturing at the chairs.

Donnelly didn't take a seat. Whenever meeting with possible suspects he never wanted to waste time sitting down. What if something happened? What if the suspect tried to run, or attack him before he could question him? If something like that happened, he always wanted to be prepared to move. The logical part of his brain always questioned this habit. But it was the one thing he always held on to.

All of a sudden, he heard a dull crash coming from Quinn's office. It wasn't very loud but he heard it. Ignoring the receptionist's protests, he drew his gun and burst into the office, vaguely aware of the other agents following him.

Quinn had a man pinned against the wall of his office. He was choking the man with one hand and trying to attack him with a letter opener with the other hand. The other man had a grip on Quinn's arm and was doing his best to keep the blade away from him. He was doing a fine job of it, but if the panic in the man's eyes was any indication, Donnelly knew it wouldn't last long.

"FBI!" he announced loudly. "Drop the weapon!"

Quinn heard him, but didn't drop the weapon. Instead, he forced the man in front of him and held the letter opener to his throat.

"I will kill him, Agent Donnelly," Quinn said.

Donnelly scowled at the cowardly move. Hiding behind a hostage was usually something a suspect did out of desperation, as a last line of defense. When he knew he was going down but was determined to resist his arrest as long as possible. Still, Donnelly knew what it was like to be a hostage and he would do his ultimate best to ensure that this man lived.

The man struggling in Quinn's grip looked at him in fear. At first, Donnelly assumed that the man was simply afraid for his life. But looking at him again, he noticed that at least part of his fear was toward him. Realizing this, he lowered his gun slightly, confused. Quinn took this as a sign of retreat. He grinned.

"Now, Agent Donnelly," Quinn began, his voice cool and calm. "You are going to let me leave with this man."

"I don't think so," Donnelly said, stiffening his arm. "I'm not letting you leave this building, and you are going to drop the weapon and release the hostage."

Quinn shrugged and raised the letter opener, malicious intent glinting in his eyes.

"Alright," Donnelly shouted before Quinn could stab the man. He laid his weapon on the floor, despising Quinn even more. He heard the agents behind him dropping the weapons too.

"Now, move aside and let me leave with this man." Donnelly suddenly regretted not having John here. From what he'd seen personally, the man could probably solve this with a head-shot. But he couldn't let Quinn leave with this man. If he could do nothing else, he had to distract him long enough to come up with a plan.

"Why," Donnelly asked.

"It's not your concern," Quinn said. "Just step aside and we will go."

Donnelly shook his head.

"I can't let you leave with a hostage." Donnelly said, positioning himself in front of the door.

Quinn suddenly dropped the 'nice guy' facade and became livid.

"You think this is a game, Agent Donnelly?" Quinn shouted. "I can assure you, it's not. Step aside right now or I will kill him."

Donnelly couldn't believe what he saw next. The man struggling in Quinn's grip suddenly raised his thumb and jammed it in Quinn's eye. Donnelly was saved from having to decide whether to laugh or not by Quinn's pain filled scream. Quinn dropped the letter opener and threw the man to the side as if he were a rag doll, reaching up to massage his eyes.

While Quinn was thus distracted, Donnelly quickly scooped up his gun and fired a round into Quinn's shoulder. The same shoulder that had just finished healing from the previous gunshot wound. Donnelly strode over to Quinn and forced him onto his feet, taking out his handcuffs.

"Alonzo Quinn, you are under arrest." he said, snapping the handcuffs around Quinn's wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." He handed Quinn over to his fellow agents. "Make sure he doesn't get away." Quinn flashed Donnelly a cold glare before being forced out of his office.

Donnelly looked around and found the man Quinn had threatened still sitting on the floor.

Normally, Donnelly would have processed Quinn's arrest without a second glance at the hostage. But unlike his former self, Donnelly knew from experience that it was one thing to walk away from a life threatening situation. Walking away psychologically unscathed was a different matter altogether.

There were days when he would close his eyes and feel the gun to the back of his head, or see Stanton pulling out her cell phone to activate the bomb on Julie's chest. There were days he would come home late at night and hear Julie wake up screaming from yet another nightmare. Sometimes the aftermath of such a situation was more damaging than the actual thing.

He made his way to the man on the floor and held out his arm to help him up.

"Are you okay," He asked the man.

"As well as can be imagined, I suppose," the man answered, grabbing his hand and standing up with a painful grimace. He was surprisingly calm for having narrowly escaped death. But maybe that was just his way of dealing with a stressful situation.

"What's your name?" Donnelly asked. The man paused for a second. Donnelly got the impression that he didn't like sharing his personal information. And he was still well aware of the man's nervousness.

"Norman Hawkins," the man finally answered.

"Well, Mr. Hawkins, your composure was commendable," Donnelly said. "If you could wait here a moment, I will be back shortly to take your statement."

XxXxXx

End Notes: Yes, Finch is nervous about Donnelly seeing him for a good reason. That will be explained in the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

Head note: Okay so I planned the next two chapters as one chapter but I realized that it was getting a little long so I decided to split it in half. Thank you for your patience with me and I hope you like this chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 8

Harold Finch watched as Agent Donnelly left Quinn's office. Despite his outward show of calm, his nerves were on fire. It was similar to the way he had felt after Detectives Carter and Beecher had killed the fake FBI agent that had been trying to kill him. It was interesting. A few moments ago he had fully expected to die. That Quinn would either drag him off, or get tired of Agent Donnelly's uncooperative attitude. But either way he had expected the letter opener to tear through his flesh at any moment. Yet now that it was over, he felt weaker than he had ever felt. His knees buckling, he reached out for the chair he had occupied while confronting Quinn and sank into it. As many life threatening situations he had been in over the last two years, he still wasn't used to the rush of adrenaline he always felt immediately after. He didn't suppose that he would ever get used to it.

It was extremely fortunate that Agent Donnelly had arrived when he had. Finch was sure that if Donnelly hadn't shown up at that exact moment, he would have been killed. Poking Quinn in the eyes had ensured a distraction, but if Donnelly hadn't been there to disarm him, Quinn still could have killed him. And yet the moment he had seen Agent Donnelly, a small fragment of his mind remembered a small detail about him. Donnelly had looked in Finch's direction as Julie ran toward her father. Once that fragment of his mind had remembered that, his entire mind had remembered it and a single thought brushed through his mind. Had Agent Donnelly caught a glimpse of him?

True, Agent Donnelly might have been more focused on his family and more especially on his daughter, but Harold had been there. He had been the one dropping Julie off after they had saved them. What if he were to remember seeing him.

There was no doubting the fact that Agent Donnelly was a good man. Or that his timely intervention had saved Harold's life. But to have him recognize Harold as having been the man that dropped off his daughter would be dangerous to his and John's mission. Agent Donnelly didn't appear to recognize him, but any prolonged exposure could greatly increase his chances of doing so. And saving the irrelevant numbers was difficult enough without Agent Donnelly chasing one of them. If he started chasing both of them it would be well nigh impossible.

But, regardless of the risks, Agent Donnelly had saved his life and he was truly grateful for that. He almost wondered if Donnelly's concern for him was because it reminded him of his own life-threatening situation.

He forced the thoughts of Quinn's attempt to kill him to the back of his mind and instead tried to focus on ways to avoid arousing Agent Donnelly's suspicions. For one fleeting moment he considered leaving Quinn's office before Agent Donnelly came back. He rejected the idea when he realized that if he simply disappeared, it would prompt Agent Donnelly to launch a missing person's investigation. And that would attract the attention of the NSA or Decima, both of whom were far more dangerous than Donnelly.

Since leaving the office now was out of the question, he had to fabricate a reason for being at Quinn's office. Perhaps he could claim he was Quinn's financial adviser. That technically wasn't a lie considering what he had been doing before Agent Donnelly arrived. It would also explain why he had Quinn's bank accounts on his laptop if they asked to see it.

XxXxXx

Agent Donnelly walked out of Quinn's office trying desperately to piece together some puzzle that just was not forming. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about Mr. Hawkins. He could have sworn he had seen him before somewhere. He didn't look too familiar, but judging by the way he had been looking at him, Hawkins definitely knew him. Perhaps he had seen him in an elevator or bumped into him on the street.

Another odd fact was that Quinn had insisted on taking Hawkins with him. In fact, now that he thought about it, he found it odd that Quinn had attacked Hawkins before he had burst into the room. The suspect usually didn't grab a hostage until after the threat of arrest was real. And even then they were usually eager to release the hostage in exchange for freedom. But Quinn had insisted on taking Hawkins with him. The way that he had been threatening Hawkins told Donnelly that he wasn't just a hostage to Quinn. It had been personal. What had Hawkins done to tick Quinn off so much? What had he done that had put him at the mercy of a man who had shown him no mercy? The only thing that had saved his life was having the presence of mind to poke him in the eyes. It wasn't very often that a hostage displayed that much composure. Quite simply, they usually just didn't think about it. It was a simple self-defense move. But simple as it was, it was also effective. Without that, Donnelly wouldn't have been able to get a shot.

Ah, it didn't even matter whether he had seen him before or not. It didn't matter why Quinn had attacked him. The important thing was that the man was alive.

"Agent Donnelly," a young agent greeted.

Donnelly looked up to see who had spoken to him and nodded to him.

"Agent Fleming," he greeted back. "I need to get my notebook so I can take the witness' statement. So I want you to keep an eye on him." He indicated Quinn. "When I come back, I want you to be in charge of taking him to Riker's."

Fleming suddenly looked crestfallen as he heard what Donnelly wanted him to do. No he looked more...ashamed.

"Something wrong?" Donnelly asked.

"It's just that, the last time you trusted me to transport a prisoner, he got away," Fleming explained.

Donnelly's eyes narrowed, confused. Then he sighed when he realized what Fleming was referring to.

"Do you still blame yourself for the Man in the Suit's escape?" Donnelly asked. "I've already told you, that's not your fault."

"Please don't patronize me by disregarding the facts," Agent Fleming said wearily. "I didn't pay attention to him. And because of that he was able to grab a paperclip."

Fleming had been scrutinized for months while the Bureau tried to figure out how the Man in the Suit had escaped and each time Fleming had blamed himself. He explained that he had been careless and hadn't noticed the Man in the Suit to grab a paperclip while being transferred to a holding cell. Before he knew it the Man in the Suit had gotten free of his handcuffs and attacked him. He had assumed that the Man in the Suit must have escaped before Donnelly had even made it down there. That was the official version of John's escape and Donnelly hadn't felt the need to correct it.

Nevertheless, Donnelly had tried to defend Fleming from the jokes at his expense. Unfortunately, it hadn't been very successful.

"One stupid mistake," Fleming sighed. "And they won't let me forget it."

Donnelly looked at Fleming, an uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach. He couldn't shake the guilt he felt for making the young man take the fall for him. But he certainly was not about to confess that he had simply let John go. He hoped there was someway to restore the young man's faith in himself. Then an idea popped into his head.

"Yes, it was a stupid mistake," Donnelly admitted. "And you're going to make a lot of them throughout your life and your career. Everyone does. Even I have made my fair share of mistakes. Some of them serious. But from my experience, dwelling on your mistakes does not change the past. Learn from your mistakes, but don't keep beating yourself up over them."

"It's hard to move on when your peers don't give you the chance to redeem yourself," Fleming said.

"Why do you think I invited you here?" Donnelly asked, a small smile growing on his face. "Maybe booking the real head of HR will earn you some well-deserved respect."

The young agent finally allowed himself to look up at him and smile.

"Thanks," he said. "For giving me another chance."

"Your welcome," Donnelly said.

He grabbed his notebook and gave Fleming another encouraging smile before walking back into Quinn's office.

XxXxXx

He found Mr. Hawkins sitting in one of Quinn's chair and that's when he noticed Hawkins' unusually stiff posture. He also noticed that Hawkins had to turn his whole upper body in order to look at him.

"What happened to your back?" Donnelly asked.

"I was in an accident a few years ago," Hawkins said.

Donnelly got the impression that he was being very vague. Forcing it out of his mind, he asked Hawkins to give a detailed account of what happened. Hawkins took a deep breath and began his story. He explained that he was Quinn's Financial Adviser and that he had been going over his bank accounts with him.

"I don't know what caused him to attack me," Hawkins said as he concluded his story. "I suppose he blamed me for his poor money management. I had come here to explain that he had lost all his money. I had never seen him lose his temper like that."

"Okay Thank you for your time, Mr. Hawkins," Donnelly said, getting up to leave. "Just one more question. Do you have a number where we could reach you in case we need to ask you more questions?"

"Sure," Hawkins said. _With some great reluctance_, Donnelly noted.

Hawkins drew out card in his wallet and borrowed a pen on Quinn's desk to write a phone number on the back.

"Universal Heritage Insurance," Donnelly read from the card.

"I used to work there," Hawkins said, turning to give Donnelly the card. "Don't suppose I could convince you to switch your insurance policy?"

Donnelly realized that Hawkins was joking when he saw some slight mischief in Hawkins' eyes and smiled.

"Sorry," Donnelly said, taking the card and turning to leave. "I'm happy with Geico."

"Agent Donnelly," Hawkins said, stopping Donnelly in his tracks. He looked back at Hawkins. The mischief was gone from his eyes. "I wanted to say thank you. For saving my life."

Hawkins looked somewhat embarrassed and he still had that air of nervousness around him. However, despite Hawkins' obvious concern, Donnelly could see in his eyes that the gratitude was sincere.

"Your welcome," Donnelly said, before turning to leave.

XxXxXx

End Note: Yes I realize that Universal Heritage and Geico are different types of insurance companies but I couldn't resist. And also I used a new character for two reasons 1. I wanted to explain how John's escape was explained to the FBI and 2. I wanted to give that character a name.


	9. Chapter 9

Head Notes: Sorry it has taken me a long time to post the last chapter. It took me forever to work out the ending. But after months of typing and posting, here it is: my final chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 9

The next morning, John walked into the library with a newspaper and a box of doughnuts. He saw Finch laying on his desk, his back noticeably tight and rigid and his glasses were folded and set off to the side.

"Look at this, Finch," he said, startling him awake. "You're in the news."

Finch put on his glasses and looked at the paper in John's hand. '**HR Boss Finally Identified**' '**HR Investigation Reopened**' were the two headlines on the front page.

"I hardly see how that's good news seeing as we're trying to stay out of the press," he said ironically.

"It's great to have you here, Finch," John replied, choosing a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles.

"I know what you did, Mr. Reese," Finch said, sleep gone from his eyes as they stared at him gravely.

"You sound like you're about to discipline me," John remarked.

"It's unlikely a coincidence that Agent Donnelly arrived at Quinn's office just in time to save me simply by good fortune." Finch spoke slowly so that there was no mistaking what he was about to say.

"Are you going to fire me because I cared about you?" John asked.

"No, Mr. Reese," Finch sighed. "I'm not going to fire you. But calling Agent Donnelly was reckless. Did you realize that he could have traced your call and gone after you instead of Quinn? What would have happened then? You would be back in Riker's."

"I had to go after Carter and Fusco but I was not going to let you confront Quinn without some backup." John explained. "And I certainly was not about to trust Simmons to save you. I knew that calling Donnelly was risky. But that was a risk I was willing to take in order to keep you safe."

"Furthermore, did it occur to you that Agent Donnelly might have seen me dropping off his daughter?" Finch added. "He could have recognized me. Then he would be after both of us and that would greatly undermine our ability to help the irrelevant numbers"

"It was either him or Simmons, Finch," John quietly shot back. "Which would you have preferred? I don't know about you, but I trust Donnelly a whole lot more than Simmons."

They stood there for a few minutes, glaring at each other. John took his eyes off Finch took a bite out of the doughnut.

"So do we have a new number?" He asked, changing the subject.

"So far, no," Finch said, turning his attention back to the computer. "Anyway, we could both use a day off after yesterday."

A beep came from John's phone. He looked down at it. It was a text message. But before Finch could read it, John was already typing a reply. _We can meet in an hour._ _you_ _choose the place. I will find you._

He turned to Finch.

"Looks like I have an appointment," John remarked.

"With who?" Finch asked, apprehension dawning on his face.

"Relax, Harold, I'll be careful" John said softly.

XxXxXx

Carter walked into the precinct more quietly than she normally did. It had been a crazy ride the last couple days. It had been almost three days since she had found Cal's recording. Since then she and Fusco had effectively crumbled what was left of HR. Fusco.  
She honestly didn't know what to think about the revelation of him being a former dirty cop. On the one hand, she was glad that he had changed and that someone had given him a second chance in life. On the other hand, she shuddered to think that Fusco, her partner, her friend, had once trampled on the one thing they were fighting to uphold. How many people had he killed? How many crimes had he been paid to ignore?

It was obvious that he had changed. She had heard that in his voice and seen it in his actions last night. His genuine shame when he had spoken of his past was in total contrast to his proud defiance toward Terney. Even so, how did that justify ignoring his past crimes; the people he had hurt, the families he had let down by looking the other way. She should be turning him in. Instead, she was acting as if she was none the wiser.

"You okay, Carter?" Fusco's voice startled her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she smiled. "I'm alive, At least."

Fusco smiled a little, but Carter could see faint worry lines creasing his face.

"Yeah, you and me both," he said. "Wonder Boy definitely knows exactly when to show up. He's never late or early. It's actually starting to drive me a little crazy."

Carter gave a small smile in response then looked away. She didn't want to be reminded that someone so normal had been so...evil. Was that even the right word?

"Carter, if you want to talk to me, you can," Fusco said, disrupting her thoughts again.

Carter looked Fusco in the eyes but didn't have the heart to articulate the question. It was as if voicing it out loud herself, would make the fact irreversible. Fusco must have read her mind because he stood up and invited her into an empty office.

"There's no way around this Carter," He began. "I was a dirty cop. Plain and simple."

"Why?" she asked, her voice harder than she had intended. "How could you justify doing what you knew was wrong?"

"To be honest, I was dragged into that kicking and screaming, too," he answered, not looking at her . "I hated it. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't say no. I was shocked the first time they asked me to do it. I wanted to say no. But someone that I thought was a friend talked me into it. Asked me to do it to help him. The next time, same story. After a few years I just finally quit caring. That's where our mutual friend came in."

"John?" Carter realized. So it had been John that had given Fusco a second chance in life.

"Yeah. He found me. Told me he needed someone on the force." Fusco looked up at her. "Carter, I need to be honest with you. John pulled me out of the shadows, There's no question about that. But there was another person who saved me."

"Who?" She asked. "Finch?"

Fusco shook his head.

"You." He said.

Carter blinked.

"How did I save you?" she asked confused.

"You reminded me what it meant to be a good cop. I wasn't lying last night when I said that I wanted to be clean because of my kid. But you were the one who showed me how."

"Fusco," she whispered not sure what to say.

"I know that this doesn't change the way you feel about the questionable moments in my life," Fusco began carefully. "And I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to turn me in. I just wanted you to know the truth."

Carter stood quietly taking in everything she had heard. She had saved him? She hadn't thought that being a friend to him had affected him so much. He considered her as having saved him. Then again she didn't know much about his previous partners. For all she knew, she may have been his first partner that wasn't dirty. The first partner that had started to pull him back.

She looked at Fusco and realized that his gaze had not left her face while everything had sunk in.

"No, Fusco," she said finally. "I won't turn you in."

Fusco looked like he had expected her to do the opposite of what she was doing.

"Really," he said, a mix of relief and shock in his eyes.

"Really," she repeated. "But Fusco, I trusted you and last night that trust was broken. And it's going to take a while for me to rebuild that trust. I trust you enough to let you off the hook for now, but if you do anything to betray that trust it won't happen again. Are we clear?"

"We're clear," Fusco said, looking her in the eyes.

XxXxXx

Donnelly stood at the edge of a pond in a small park. The park wasn't full, but hopefully there was enough people to avoid drawing attention to two people meeting. The only reason he had called John was because he was curious. He had been going over John's case file trying to figure out a motive when the call came. He was looking for anything that would remotely explain what the crime scenes meant. He wasn't sure if John would really come. After all, he, himself, probably wouldn't. But whether John actually planned on coming or not, visiting the park always had its perks. It was one of those simple things he did with his family whenever he could.

It still didn't explain how John was going to find him. There was a fair number of parks in the surrounding area. Even if John guessed which one he was at, how was he supposed to find exactly where he was? _Well, that's his headache, I suppose_, Donnelly thought to himself. Then there was the question of whether John would answer his questions or not. He still remembered that John was not very keen about answering questions. And when he did answer them they were noticeably vague.

Donnelly was suddenly aware of a presence standing beside him and looked to see who it was. John was looking around the park with a pretended interest.

"How did you find me?" Donnelly asked. At first he wasn't sure if John had heard him. But then John answered his question.

"I'm very good at this, Nicholas," he began dryly, his gaze still wandering anywhere but where Donnelly was standing. "If you wanted to present me with a challenge you should have gone with some place a little less personal."

They both stood where they were. Donnelly began to mimic John by looking around the park as well.

"How's Julie?" John asked softly.

"She's adapting. She's fine physically, and the nightmares are diminishing but…" He couldn't continue.

"I'm sorry," John said, understanding. "And just so you know, I know what it's like when someone you care about is recovering from a trauma."  
John paused for a moment before continuing.

"So you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"You called me last night because you knew that Quinn was the head of HR," Donnelly said carefully.

"Right," John confirmed.

"What made you suspect him in the first place?" Donnelly asked.

"I figured that Walker probably wasn't clever enough to be the HR's big boss. And if that was the case, the real guy must have slipped through our fingers." John explained.

"but how did Quinn's name come up?" Donnelly asked. John shrugged.

"Anonymous tip," he answered vaguely.

"That the same type of anonymous tip that told you I was in danger?" Donnelly asked, not expecting an answer.

"Not quite," he replied. "But it's just as private."

Donnelly took a deep breath. He was definitely not expecting an answer to his next question, but he was not about to walk away without asking.

"What do you do?" He asked.

"This mean you don't think I'm a killer selling my services to the highest bidder?" John scoffed, amused.

"I figured that out a month ago," Donnelly said. "You may not be the killer I thought you were, but with all the crime scenes you're involved with over the last two years, I know you're up to something. So what is it?"

John continued to scan the park as though he hadn't heard Donnelly's question. Donnelly suspected that he wouldn't get an answer. His suspicion was confirmed when John spoke again.

"I read the news this morning," he said casually. "looks like you're a hero."

"What are you talking about?" Donnelly asked.

"Quinn tried to use a hostage, didn't he?" John replied.

"Yeah, a man named Norman Hawkins," Donnelly confirmed. Donnelly was sure he had seen John's lip quirk up at the mention of the name, but it was gone before he could register what he had seen.

"And what did you do when you saw that Quinn was trying to use a hostage?" John asked him.

"Well, I saw Hawkins standing there, looking at me, afraid." Donnelly began. "And I knew then and there that I would do everything in my power to make sure that he walked out of that office alive."

"Why?" John asked. "Why worry about the hostage? You had the big boss. Anyone else might have considered it worth it to sacrifice a hostage in order to catch him."

"I remembered what it had felt like to be the hostage." Donnelly tried to explain everything that had gone through his mind in the two seconds it had taken him to make a decision. He was failing miserably. "I looked at him and saw myself."

"So you're a hero. You not only arrested the head of HR, you saved a life."

"There's nothing special about what I did last night," Donnelly insisted. "I did what anyone would have done."

"Maybe, but you still did it." John replied.

"What does this have to do with anything?" Donnelly asked.

John finally turned to look him in the eye. Donnelly realized that he had been wrong to assume that John wouldn't answer his question when he spoke again.

"You asked me what I do, Nicholas," he answered. "Well this is what I do. I see people in danger and I do everything in my power to make sure they get out of it alive."

Donnelly looked back to the pond but he wasn't seeing it. He was trying to take in everything he had learned. He remembered what he had thought after John had saved him from Snow. John had been so calm and so nonchalant after his fight with snow that Donnelly had wondered if it was an everyday occurrence. It seemed his assumption hadn't been too far off. But then an odd fact struck his memory. One that had him turning back to face John.

"But you knew I was in danger before Stanton even called me," Donnelly noted.

"You know I can't answer that, Nicholas." John said before he could ask.

"I'm an FBI agent, John" Donnelly said. "There are certain questions that I have to ask."

"And I respect that," John replied. "But there are certain questions that I can't answer."

Donnelly scoffed and turned back to the pond. Even if John hadn't said those words, Donnelly would have known by the tone of his voice that the interview was over. He wasn't going to get anymore answers. Still, he wished John would be a little more trusting of him.

"Well then, if you're done answering questions," Donnelly began. "I should be heading back to the field office."

"I should get back to work too," John whispered.

Donnelly turned around sharply, But by the time he was facing the spot where john had been, he had disappeared. He looked around wildly and finally spotted John walking toward the edge of the park.

Donnelly sighed and scoffed. Then he walked toward his car and drove back to his office.

XxXxXx

Harold Finch sat at his computer listening to every word Mr. Reese and Agent Donnelly said to each other. At first he was astounded that Mr. Reese had even agreed to meet with Agent Donnelly. Why must his only friend be so recklessly trusting. Then he listened as John likened their work to what Agent Donnelly had done last night.

While he didn't think it was wise for Mr. Reese to reveal to Agent Donnelly the work they did, he did think that John might be right on one point. He listened as Agent Donnelly attempted to explain his reasoning for trying to save him.

"I remembered what it was like to be a hostage," Agent Donnelly's voice said. "I looked at him and saw myself."

The conversation continued, but Finch was no longer listening. He sat very quietly. Perhaps John was right to trust Agent Donnelly. In a very real way he was much like themselves. And in a small way, he was even similar to Mr. Reese. It was impossible to tell who had more determination between the two of them. They were both reasonably intelligent. And from what he'd seen last night, Agent Donnelly was just as determined to save lives as Mr. Reese was. True his own experience may have been the leading cause for his actions last night. But was he, Harold Finch, supposed to disregard it from Donnelly when he, himself had done the exact same thing? Hadn't it been he that had ignored the irrelevant numbers while Nathan had been the one who had given up everything to help them. Harold hadn't cared about the irrelevant list until after Nathan had been killed.

His thoughts focused on Agent Donnelly. He had never regretted saving the man's life. He had thought it risky to have him see John work, but he was always glad to save lives. And now he saw an advantage to having saved his life. Just as John had demonstrated last night, Agent Donnelly could be very useful. Perhaps at some point in the future they could use him as an ally much like Ms. Morgan and Mr. Tao.

After all, when he had started out after Nathan had died he never could have hoped for so many allies. At first he had been desperately trying save the numbers on his own. Then, almost inexplicably, he had learned of Mr. Reese and earned him as a partner and friend. And with Mr. Reese, slowly but surely, the rest had followed. Somehow, Mr. Reese had convinced the detectives to help them. Even Ms. Morgan and Mr. Tao turned up several times to help them. Could it be possible to persuade Agent Donnelly to become their ally as well?

It didn't seem very likely, but he couldn't help but consider the possibilities of having an FBI agent on their side. With him on their side, they could have access to that much more information on their cases. Information that Carter and Fusco couldn't get, there was a chance Agent Donnelly could get it. Plus with their work, they could use all the help they could get.

Finch smiled as he thought of the possibilities. Perhaps, Mr. Reese was right. Agent Donnelly may not be their ally _yet_. But judging by his actions last night, he was well on his way to becoming so. Perhaps, in a few months, Harold could introduce himself properly. But for now, he would wait and watch.

End Notes: Thank you everyone who read my story and an especially big thanks to all those who left reviews. This story wasn't as much fun to write as my Donnelly story but it was still fun to write. I hope you all enjoyed it.


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